By Moonlight
by Laziness Incarnate
Summary: Kenshin ponders, weak and weary, in a shack by moonlight dreary. Then Saitoh comes in to discuss why there's a dead child over there. [One-shot]


Disclaimer: Rurouni Kenshin and its characters are property of Nobuhiro Watsuki, Sony Entertainment, and lots of rich people who don't really care whether I make money off this or not. Which I am not. 

Spoilers: Teensy ones for the end of the Departure Arc.   


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There was no light within the small, dirty shack other than a pale ray of moonlight which seeped its way through the building's one window. Standing outlined in the soft moonlight was a man who held a sword loosely at his side; the weapon was dull and dark in the absence of real light. At his feet lay another man, who seemed to be peacefully sleeping. 

Neither man moved for many moments. Then, the standing man suddenly lifted his sword hand, and his weapon was raised higher, as if to strike. But no, the sword did not fall, did not end the life of the prone figure lying on the floor. Instead it slid noiselessly back into its sheath. 

In another time, another era, the sword would have killed, would have been coated with blood, for in that other era the person who held the blade had believed in another truth. If that era still reigned, the blade's shine would have truly been dulled with blood instead of merely hidden in darkness 

And yet, though the sword moved, it did not reflect the light of the moon. 

The swordsman looked around him, as if noticing his surroundings for the first time. He saw, in the corners of the shack, piles of hay that had deep depressions in them, as if people had recently slept there. The depressions were small, child-sized. 

And in a dark corner of the shack lay a small, emaciated body. 

In the darkness, the man's eyes narrowed. There was disappointment in those eyes, as well as a slight touch of anger. He turned back to look at the figure on the floor, at the man who was the source of his frustrations. 

Standing in the shadows, the swordsman's eyes were terrifying. An unearthly tinge of gold coloured their dark, dark depths. The man's right hand, resting with familiar ease on his sword, suddenly moved with a motion as natural as the cold winds of winter. 

The sword was drawn. But the swordsman turned toward the door of the shack, to welcome another, someone whose eyes matched the colour of his own. 

"Good evening, Battousai," the newcomer coolly said. 

"Saitoh," Kenshin answered evenly. 

  
  


BY MOONLIGHT

  


"You don't seem all that surprised I'm not dead." 

No, Kenshin hadn't been surprised at all. Somehow, he had known that Saitoh would not allow himself to die. Not until everything had been settled between them. 

All Kenshin said was, "No, I'm not." 

Puffing on his ever-present cigarette, Saitoh said, "A shame. I wanted to see your stupid expression when you found out I'm not in hell quite yet. Ah well, I can always count on your little friends to make up for your lack of surprise." The policeman glanced sidelong at Kenshin, an odd gleam in his eyes. "You seem different tonight, Battousai A little more of the man I remember at the end of the era." 

Kenshin's heart beat a little faster with alarm. During Bakamatsu, he would never have stood passive in the presence of the Miburo. 

But he was not a killer anymore. Never again. 

Saitoh seemed able to read his thoughts; his eyes narrowed, his hand straying to his sheathed sword contemplatively. He grinned a wolf's grin. But then, seeming to also remember time and place, he took his hand off his sword and his face become expressionless once more. 

"I see you took care of the job already," he said, looking disdainfully down at the man lying on the ground. "For once, it's a good thing you don't kill. We need him for questioning. I will take this man into my custody." His tone allowed no room for arguing. 

Kenshin hesitated before answering, knowing that the ex-Shin-sen-gumi captain would never deviate from his code, the code that had carried him through Bakumatsu to Meiji. And heaven help those who stood in his way. 

But Kenshin now stood in the way of his narrow justice, where once he shared the same views. 

"Saitoh, leave him here. Allow me to question him." 

The policeman seemed surprised that even he would be stupid enough to ask such a thing. 

"Still showing mercy, Battousai?" he asked sardonically. "Do you know what this man has done?" 

"I know some of it," Kenshin answered softly, his eyes straying to the tiny, lifeless body in the corner of the shack. Had he forgotten the child for a moment? When Saitoh had walked in and seemed as if he wanted to fight Battousai, and only Battousai-could Kenshin have forgotten another's pain so quickly because of his own? 

Kenshin walked over to the child and knelt down, looking at the body sorrowfully. It was a very young girl; probably she had not even lived to see her fifth year of life. She was painfully thin, her eyes glassy with pain and hunger. Death had probably been a relief. Gently, Kenshin closed her wide, staring eyes. 

"This man you so kindly defeated for me," Saitoh began, prodding the unconscious figure on the ground with his toe, "collected children off the streets or took them when their parents weren't watching, who knows, most likely with promises of food and a home. He brought them here for safe-keeping until they could be transported elsewhere to work." His tone was completely professional. "It's odd that he would work on such a large scale in the city, but it's harder to find them abandoned and starving in the countryside now." 

"Slave labour," Kenshin said with a ghostly expression. 

"This is a big operation, not only affecting Tokyo. Tonight we were supposed to catch some of them transporting the children, but-" his eyes shifted to the empty pile of hay with its child-sized depressions, "apparently they found out and pushed ahead their schedule." 

"This girl's body is cold," Kenshin said quietly, standing up from his crouching position. 

"Long dead then. They found us out and left hours ago." 

"Where are the children now?" 

"We don't know. This was our only lead." It was the first time Saitoh showed his frustration with this case. 

A case. Was that all this was to him? A disturbance of the law, a reason for him to act on his own strange sense of justice? 

Or was that only what Saitoh wanted him, and the rest of the world, to think? Kenshin would not find out tonight; the policeman's small signs of frustration smoothed themselves out, as if by habit. When he began speaking again, his voice had resumed its usual detached, slightly disdainful self. 

"Fortunately, we still have one of the criminals here left for questioning." 

The second time that night, Kenshin asked, "Let me question him." 

An annoyed gleam appeared in Saitoh's narrow eyes. "Why should I let you?" 

"I know how these people work." 

"Really," Saitoh commented, his eyebrow raised with a slight interest. Then, shrugging, knowing it wasn't his business, he resumed. "I doubt you could get any useful information out of him. This man is small fry; he probably doesn't know anything about who's heading this organization. He probably doesn't even know where the children are taken. We were going after the men who do the transporting tonight, who would have more useful information." 

"And besides," he continued after a moment, "you don't exactly have the skills nor the stomach for a 'proper' interrogation. At least, not in your present state." 

Kenshin stared intently at Saitoh. He could read his thoughts easily. What a waste you are, Battousai. You were once called the strongest, you once had the resolve to do what had to be done instead of worrying about the pristine state of your soul, about the blood on your hands. Now you are weak, tied down by weak ideals. 

Kenshin answered in his own thoughts. I was once what you say-in another era. But now, I have something better, and whether you call it weakness or strength does not matter to me. 

"Let me question him," Kenshin said a third time. 

"No." 

Of course the answer was no. Why was he even bothering to ask? Why was this so important, that he not let this criminal stay in Saitoh's hands? 

Almost immediately he knew the answer. He knew the police's ways-the ways of the old era. If they continued the investigation, they would find the centre of the slavery operation eventually. Saitoh would make sure of that. But they cared little for the children who were being held. Street urchins, pickpockets, orphans-all malnourished and considered a burden on society. The police would take no special care to make sure that they were safe. And once the children were freed, they would come to a life no better than the one they endured now. 

Or worse yet, the police might not even succeed in freeing them. If the criminals became nervous, they might close shop and leave, destroying all the evidence. Kill the children, incinerate their bodies. No one would hear their screams. 

One thing had not changed since Bakamatsu: it was still better to work in shadows. That was why Kenshin had to do this. 

But how to convince Saitoh? How to make him see beyond his rigid, merciless code? How to make him understand that his code required both the blood of innocents as well as the blood of the guilty? 

_But of course he already knows, and does not care. _

"Saitoh," he began hesitantly, "you know I can carry this out better than a police force. I can keep the operation quiet." 

Irritably, the policeman answered, "How many times do I have to tell you? The answer is no." 

"There is more than just your own sense of justice in this world! Just for tonight, let me have mine," Kenshin said, the first traces of anger in his voice. And beneath the anger...a desperate need. 

Saitoh seemed amused. "Your justice? Your weak, faltering ideals that change whenever the mood suits you? Whenever the era changes?" 

"What do you mean?" Kenshin's eyes narrowed. 

"What I mean is this: You are asking me to risk this operation for your ideals, so that no blood is shed." 

"Yes." 

"Tell me, Battousai: why should your hands be clean in this? For your 'redemption'? So you can go home with and tell yourself with a satisfied little smile that you've done the right thing?" Saitoh said mockingly, his voice telling clearly what Kenshin already knew. 

The wolf thought he could see with the eyes of an outsider, who could observe and understand without the blinding haze of emotions that impaired those who were too involved. And yet, despite his belief, he still lived in the old era, still lived by an outdated code. No, Saitoh, you are not untouched by your own emotions, Kenshin thought silently. Once every long, long while, I see it. I see the perfect image of what you want to be, and I see you are just short of it, impeded by the emotions you deem foolish. And you are a better man for it. And still, you cannot see this yourself. 

But who am I to judge you, Saitoh? When really, you have always been able to judge me with your clear eyes better than I can judge myself...and yet you reject all that I am, all that I believe in. 

Kenshin watched the man in front of him, this man he had fought so many times, wondering whether to answer his mocking question, the taunt in his golden eyes. He is, Kenshin realized, perhaps, the only living person who understands what I used to be. The rurouni closed his own eyes wearily; the cross scar on his cheek seemed to burn with remembered pain. 

_Why should my hands be clean?_

He answered simply, "It is the only way I know how to begin to redeem myself." 

Saitoh barked a short, humorless laugh. "You still believe that? You still think that protecting a handful of foolish, ignorant people around you is your penance?" 

Kenshin opened his eyes. "I know that I cannot undo my past, that the families who lost their sons and fathers to my sword will not be comforted," he said quietly. "But I do what little I can to allow the people around me to live out their lives peacefully." 

"Yes, yes, I've heard this all before," Saitoh said dismissively. "Battousai, you truly have become weak. Look at yourself: you keep your hands clean for the sake of your own conscience, and call it 'living for others'. Pathetic," he spat. 

Eyes widened in shock, Kenshin asked, "What do you mean?" 

Saitoh made an impatient gesture. 

"Are you still deceiving yourself? The reason you protect others is because your happiness depends on their welfare. If they are well and happy, then you are well and happy. It's as simple as that." He inhaled deeply on his cigarette, taking in a lungful of gray smoke. 

Kenshin's eyes dimmed slightly. Did I tell myself this man knew me better than any other just a short time ago? 

"So this is what you believe I am," Kenshin said tonelessly, his eyes staring at nothing. "A man who fights for his own desire for happiness." 

"So you do understand. Heaven knows I made myself clear enough." 

"You are wrong." 

Kenshin lifted his head to look Saitoh straight in the eye. "When I fought Shi-shi-o, I believed I was going to die; I almost welcomed it. If I had died then, I would have died happy, knowing that I had done enough. But then, I thought of Kaoru-dono, of the promise I made to her, of how her face would look if I broke that promise." 

"Ah yes, she'd be rather perturbed if you died, wouldn't she?" Saitoh cut in dryly. Kenshin ignored him. 

"You see, Saitoh? My life is not my own anymore. My master told me this; Kaoru-dono showed me it was true. And..." 

He paused for a moment, unsure. And then, as if suddenly realizing it himself, he smiled and said, "And I am happy knowing this." 

Saitoh's face was expressionless for a moment. Almost, Kenshin thought, disappointed. 

Then he sneered. 

"This was a waste of time," he said disdainfully. "I thought I saw a bit of the hitokiri here tonight; that is the only reason why I bothered." He turned to go, dropping his lit cigarette on the floor. 

Still smiling, Kenshin said, "Saitoh." 

The policeman glanced irritably over his shoulder at the rurouni. 

"Thank you." 

Saitoh sneered again and grounded out the cigarette lying on the floor with his shoe. He began to walk away, but then unexpectedly stopped. 

"You depend on that girl for so much, ne Battousai?" Saitoh's words for once were not biting. Nor were they a threat. He merely stated the truth. 

Kenshin answered simply, "Yes, I do." 

With a wolf's grin, Saitoh finally walked away, leaving the rurouni behind. He did not take the unconscious criminal with him. Instead, he wordlessly carried away the lifeless body of the young girl who would feel pain no longer. 

Perhaps he finally felt the new era catching up with him. 

Kenshin waited there for a long time, watching over the criminal who lay on the floor in innocent-seeming slumber. He waited there until moonlight gave way to sunrise, and day came at last.   
  


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Author's Note: 

I wrote this before reading the Revenge arc, so please excuse the continuity error. Just pretend it's anime continuity...and, er....it could sort of happen in manga continuity, damnit! Kenshin just has to pretend ignorance, or hit his head and lose his memory! Yeah. 

I promise if I write any more Kenshin fics, they won't be sodden, melodramatic angst like this. It'll be unhilarious comedy instead. 


End file.
